


Infused Warrior(s)

by spireghost



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Gen, Lyrium Brands, Lyrium Infusion, Mostly about Marian but yknow, Needles, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spireghost/pseuds/spireghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Danarius comes to Kirkwall to take back Fenris, but Hawke has an interesting counter offer for him.</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quick Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a dream a friend told me about, I decided to write it, with a bit of her help. The thought behind a lot of this is that I felt that Dragon Age 2, as told by Varric was exaggerated by him which is why a lot of fights are easy. Realistically a fight versus a Tevinter Magister wouldn't be a walk in the park, so Marian takes an easier way out to save her love. 
> 
> Uhhhh sorry if Fen is kinda OOC I'm not used to writing his character this is a lot more focused on Marian!
> 
> Enjoy!  
> \---  
>  _Thanks for your kudos! ;v; they make my day!_  
>  \---  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Apr 2016: Revised after many errors noted.

The moon was high over Kirkwall. Bright beams snuck their their way through Hawke’s curtains, leaving patterns along her bedding. Bodahn had brought in her nightly tea moments ago and bowed as he left the room. She smiled and took a quick sip, as to not burn her tongue for the fourth night in a row. From her room she could hear the front door open and slam shut. It wasn’t unusual for this particular household so shrugging it off, she continued reading a story from Varric. A dashing tale of two lovers in the midst of a civil war. How romantic, and oh-so-familiar. 

Marian heard a firm knock on her bedroom door and her name being called from the other side. She identified it as Fenris, immediately wondering what had brought him there at such a late hour. She dog-eared the page and placed the book down on the bed, calling for him to come in. The door promptly flew open and Fenris stalked into the room with a paper gripped tight in his hand. Hawke took note of the ribbon around his wrist, the one she had given him a year ago; it made her smile despite how tense Fenris looked. Closing the door, with a little extra force than necessary, he strode over to her with haste. The mages mind wandered. Whatever was so important that he had to come over, right before bed, had piqued her interest. Fenris knew there was a high stake mission in the morning, so it must be urgent. Attempting to divert her imagination from less pleasant thoughts she pondered the options of who the paper was from or about; possibly from long lost family? Maybe it was from slavers, to which even just the two of them would have no trouble taking care of, so clearly it must be much worse.

“I received this from Danarius,” he growled. His voice was rough, it sounded as if he’d been yelling; gauntleted fists slamming against the wall, a frustrated cry before he'd come to see her. The evidence would be on the wall of his estate. Hawke swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up straight, whilst taking the letter from Fenris in a smooth action. It was fresh, however, severely crumpled from the others grip. The parchment was thick and felt like something that would come from a noble, not that the gold inlays weren’t already a dead give away. The man obviously had power-- not to mention money, influence, you name it-- and wanted to flaunt it. She began reading the letter. It stated that Danarius would be in town two days from tomorrow evening and that he was ‘inviting’ the both of them for a meeting in The Hanged Man or face a surprise visit from the Tevinter Magisters. The man made it clear he wanted Marian to be present. 

“Since a meeting is inevitable I would rather be civilized with our encounter.” She read out loud with a scowl. He was clearly prepared for the fight that would ensue.

“He’s this close Hawke, and I’m going to get him. I won’t let him get away again.”

She nodded in agreement and looked back at the letter, glancing at the signature. He had made a small design under his name beside the seal of the Imperium, a swooping pattern, same as Fenris’ lyrium. Hawke made a disgusted noise and tossed the letter down.

“We’ll get him Fenris, don’t worry. I’ve been saving a joke about Tevinter that'll really get his robes in a twist.” She joked, hoping it'd cheer up Fenris. Not that it's ever had a high success rate of working in the past. Fenris shot her a glare, clearly not amused with her attempt at lightening the mood. Marian gave him an apologetic look to which he turned his head curtly and ignored; she didn’t blame him. The elf walked to the other end of the room and back. He did this several times, each took longer than the last. His hands clenched to fists, the muscles in his neck contracting so hard she could see them. She watched him pace a few times before getting back in her reading position, she knew he needed to get it out of his system and would attempt to comfort him when he was ready to allow it. When he finally spoke his voice dripped with disgust, spitting out words about his former master, as if they were acid on his tongue. 

“All I can think about is him.” 

More pacing, strained with deep thought.

“He’s ruined my life. Taken it from me.” 

Once more.

“It’s because of him I can’t remember my past, all this, it’s  _ his _ fault. I’ll crush him where he stands!” He shouted, slamming his fist on a bedpost; it rattled the whole bed disorienting her for a moment.

“Fenris,” Hawke, ignoring his outburst, spoke softly. “He won’t be here for another two days you need to relax for now. Would you come here?”

Marian had scooted over and made room for him beside her. He reluctantly sat down, keeping his back to her for some time. She wanted to talk, but let him have his silence. The mage began analyzing him; the way he held himself seemed lower, he was much more tense than she had ever seen him. The way he his body shifted as he breathed, it was slow and heavy. Each movement felt like a century before he finally moved again. Once Fenris calmed down, he began removing pieces of his armor. Each piece was gently tossed them to the ground without a word. They made small thunk noise as each piece hit the plush carpet. Thunk. Pause. Thunk. Pause. Thunk. Pause. Thunk. She watched him unhook each piece, now able to see his lyrium markings more clearly. The ones now visible made intricate swirls and swoops that branched off each other along his back and arms. It pained her to see something so beautiful cause someone so much grief. He then laid beside Hawke, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Do you want to talk about it, Fenris?”

“ _ No _ .”

She sighed, picked up her book and began reading while Fenris dozed off. He'd talk to her when he was ready. She could respect that.

 

After finishing another few chapters in her book, Marian set it aside on the nightstand. The page left on had a excerpt of Anders’ manifestos folded up as a bookmark. Fenris had fallen asleep some time ago and had just began making quiet noises in his sleep, occasionally twitching. To Hawke they seemed distressed,  like something she’d hear from her mabari when he was having a bad dream. She rolled onto her side reaching out to gently stroke his hair. It was soft and reminded her of silk, like fancy Orlesian robes. She closed her eyes while continuing to play with his hair. 

Time passed. The Chantry bells rang more than once indicating the hours passing. Why she had yet to sleep was a mystery, though deep down she was truly scared for Fenris.

Unconsciously, Marian had began humming a song her mother would sing to her as a child. It was a song she heard often. Most while her father was away and she laid in fear of the voices calling her from the Fade. Leandra would sing to comfort her, unknowing of the horrors calling to her eldest daughter. With the slow hymn of the song she traced his lyrium with cautious fingertips, closely following beside the pattern. Occasionally she allowed her nails softly scratch alongside them. Fenris stirred in his sleep at her touch. Hawke smiled and scooted closer to him, enjoying the familiar warmth radiating from her lovers body. Sleep crept up and was about to take her, when suddenly she felt Fenris roll on top of her. His hands grabbed loosely around her neck. Hawke's eyes opened to see that his eyes were closed. He was asleep still, though she could see them moving below the lids. His lyrium was glowing, which was almost blinding with how close he was.

“Fenris?”

His hands tightened their grip, making it a little harder to breath as he slowly began crushing her larynx. Marian panicked at first, shifting under him trying to get out of his grasp. His weight upon her made the situation worse; though Fenris was a rather slender elf, his muscle made up for his loss in height. Hawke cursed the Maker and arched her back in an effort to push him off her.

“Fenris, stop!” 

She choked out his name while gasping for air. What made it into her lungs burned like a searing fire. Once more his hands tightened, nails now digging into the delicate skin of her neck. She winced and grabbed at his hands. As she tried to push him away he pushed her harder against the bed, now Hawke felt herself fading from the lack of oxygen.

“Fen —!”

With great reluctance Hawke called upon her magic, forcing a blunt chunk of ice to fly at his chest. It quckly dissipated before it could fall down onto herself. The elfs eyes flew open with a grunt, having the breath knocked out of him. Fenris stared at Hawke for a moment before he finally realized what he was doing. His grip loosened immediately and he sat up, pushing himself to the far end of the bed. His breathing grew heavy, shoulders now heaving with each breath. The lyrium slowly dimmed as she gave him reassuring words.

“Fenris, I-- I’m okay.” 

He shook his head, shoulders quaking. Anger or tears?

“It’s fine. You’re okay. We’re fine. It was just a nightmare.”

She kept her hands around her neck trying to ease the stinging pain from where Fenris’ nails dug into skin. It felt warm. Blood? Hawke brought her hand away and looked down to see areas of her hand smeared with red. Fenris got sight of the blood and put a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. He couldn't believe he hurt her. It was Danarius. Even far away the man hurt him.

For the next two days Fenris avoided most contact with Hawke. Anytime she tried to smile at him he would look away in anguish. She knew what he did was eating away at him, but it wasn’t his fault and she had forgiven him many times. No matter what she said to comfort him he ignored it and kept to himself. Not even Varric could get more than a few words out of him on the topic of Hawke. But the more time he ignored her, the more time she had to think about the situation with Danarius. It was only a day before he would arrive and she had her mind set. Marian talked to Varric about her plan, who tried to talk her out of it many times. The dwarf knew she was serious about this. Letters were prepared for her few close friends that Varric had agreed to send, in the case she succeeded. Now all there was to do was wait.

“Hawke, I must do this on my own,” Fenris barked. “Danarius is here, I am going  _ alone _ .” He walked away from her, his shoulders were tense. Sure, Danarius is here and like hell she’d let him go alone. He had asked for her assistance when they first met; what does she have to lose anyway? Her entire family had died during her time here. With a deep sigh, she followed him down the stairs and put a hand on his shoulder; thoughts about her decision clear in her mind. A shot of anxiety ran through her. Before Marian could say a word Fenris threw up his arm, removing her hand from where it had been laid. 

“Do not try to change my mind, Hawke.” 

She spoke with authority and a now angered tone, “Fenris, whether you like it or not I’m coming with you. If you think I’ll just sit here and accept this you’re wrong.”

“You don't know Danarius like I do!” He snapped. “I am going. If you follow me, I will never forgive you.” 

Fenris stormed out the door into Hightown, slamming it shut behind him. Being left with those words felt like she had been stabbed. They echoed in her mind for the next few minutes, a tight feeling growing in her chest. Fenris was the only one who had kept Hawke sane since her mother and brothers recent passing. It was one storm after the other. Marian knew he was serious and she was upset, but the mage had planned to follow him anyway. Quickly she gathered her gear, fumbling with straps and securing each armor piece into place as fast as she could manage. Hawke ran out the door in a mad dash to catch up to Fenris on his way to Lowtown. 

Tailing him down to The Hanged Man was simple enough. Fenris was on alert and yet he never saw her, blinded by his seek for revenge. Often times she lost sight of him in a crowd and it scared her with a thought, that maybe Danarius had caught him. Up and down many flights of stairs he took, she finally made it into Lowtown. Trying to blend into the crowd was tough in her freshly polished armor, but she more or less managed. Hawke then noticed two hooded figures that had began tailing Fenris as well. They were tall and donned long, ornate robes. She assumed they were from Tevinter and with Danarius. They weren’t exactly discreet, but Marian assumed they were looking for herself accompanied by Fenris as the letter had requested. Nearing The Hanged Man she got in sights of the two cloaked figures. A threatening look was shot in their direction as Fenris entered the establishment. As soon as the door closed behind him she hauled ass and flung it open, nearly off its rotting hinges and the two figures followed behind. Upon entering she could already see Fenris with his sword drawn, his stance threatening toward a figure just up the stairs. Marian drew her staff and pushed her way through a small crowd of patrons-- who were not the brightest, for the ones with brains had ran out after Hawke had come in-- that had gathered a few yards from the scene. The two cloaked men made their way around and stood with whom their loyalty lied. 

“Danarius!” Fenris barked. 

“Well, well, Fenris. It looks like your little mistress came after all.”

“Did you think I was going to let you do this alone?” Hawke chimed in as she approached.

The elfs lyrium had been dimly glowing, until it brightened when he heard Marian’s voice from behind. In a split second his expression twisted from anger to rage. Just like that almost everyone who had remained in the bar was scrambling to get out of the place, in attempt to avoid the situation that could and probably would ensue.

Danarius spoke with a degrading tone as he watched Hawke take her place beside Fenris.

“Come now, Fenris, you should have expected this.”

“So you’re the infamous Danarius I’ve heard so much about,” she continued with sharp attitude. “I half expected you to be taller. Definitely less attractive than I had imagined.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” he mused with a smirk. “Anyhow, I am not here to fight, I’ve only come for Fenris. However, you seem well prepared for one, and who am I to refuse a good show.”

“You’re not taking me, Danarius!” 

Fenris took a step forward as a warning, in return Danarius looked amused. He put a hand in the air, the two lackeys at his side rushed downstairs to attack the both of them. Marian quickly sent a sharp wall of ice out at the two, who stopped dead in their tracks. She pointed her staff blade at the Tevinter, letting out a cry, “Hold it!”

Everything halted. Even Danarius seemed surprised for a moment, until he raised an eyebrow with a new curious expression. Once again he waved a hand, this time calling his henchmen back. Fenris looked appalled, he had been waiting for this his whole life. 

“Take me,” Marian snapped. A feeling of a rock dropping in her stomach made her straighten up, speaking with more confidence. “Take me instead of him.”

Danarius looked amused. Fenris looked shocked, his heart clearly sinking. Hawke had thought about before, going in Fenris’ place if it came to this. She loved him and she wasn’t going to let Danarius touch him ever again. As she walked toward the stairs to further negotiate, Fenris dropped his sword and grabbed her arm; it was almost violent how hard he pulled her back to him. 

“Is this a joke, Hawke? ..Now _really_ isn’t the time for joking,” he spit the words through a clenched jaw, but she pulled back, glaring at him. The urge to slap him grew but she took his hand off her arm and looked right into his eyes.

“What is  _ WRONG _ with you?! Maker's breath, Fenris. You really want to risk your life to kill him, it's not worth it,” she began in a panic, her voice growing more and more frantic as she went on. “ How can you imagine we'd win! He'd likely kill us all and take you before we'd land a hit. Everyday prior to knowing he would come here, I’d be worrying you would run off to look for him instead. That you’d never come back to me.. I’ve lost all my family. My sister was killed and left in the Wilds to rot! To rot! My mother was cut to bits by a- a maniac! Carver died in the deep roads because you didn't want Anders to come along!" That was a bit below the belt, and Fenris was shocked she threw the blame on him so suddenly. But Marian continued before he could apologize, "I have nothing left but you. I only want to keep you safe, unlike how I did for them.” Marian's voice had grown hoarse and she was fighting back tears. Danarius had been watching silently, curious as to how the situation would unfold. Unfortunately while Hawke was talking, Danarius had his men circle around to block escape on either side of the two.

“How noble of you Hawke, taking your lovers place. It’s almost too good an offer to pass up. Surely, Fenris wouldn’t mind,” He then turned to speak directly to the elf, a sinister grin on his face. “I’m sure she’ll do  _ just fine _ in your place.” 

Danarius nodded his signal at the guards to take hold of Hawke. Before they could grab her, in a frantic movement she kissed Fenris goodbye. Fenris was still shocked from her yelling at him. He didn't kiss her back and yet she lingered as long as she could before she could be grabbed.

“I love you, Fenris.”

His eyes widened at her words, a surge of panic rushing over him. He felt selfish. This wasn’t happening. He had to protect Hawke. Kill Danarius. But she quickly wrapped her arms around him. In a smooth maneuver she pressed into a pressure point at his neck before he could react. The elf collapsed to the floor, his arm outstretched to reach for Hawke. Marian took a last look at her lover as the guard grabbed hold of her arms, dragging her toward Danarius. She huffed, feeling a twinge of anxiety, knowing this would likely be the last time she would ever see Fenris, Kirkwall, or any friendly faces. All she could hope for was that Varric would give everyone the letters she wrote. A surge of tears welled up as they dragged her away. Danarius had her knocked out and bound for their journey.

I love you was her last thought.

Stars. Pain. A jab in the neck, intent to save. 

Fenris laid on the floor, hardly able to comprehend what was happening around him. The world was slow and spinning. He saw Hawke being taken away with Danarius, her head lolling backward as she was dragged away, unconscious. No voice. Silent screams. Anxiety. Gone. Forever? Help.


	2. Night Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for needles and emeto mentions this chapter.

“I’m sure she’ll do _just fine_ in your place.”

 _Just fine_.

 _Just_.

 _Fine_.

When Marian awoke she felt fatigued and heavy, as if her body were weighed down with a thick molasses. A wrenching pain in her stomach grew, the more aware she became. It must have been days since she’d ate or drank anything and she could barely lift her head off the stone floor, but managed to roll onto her side. The clank of iron on stone rang in her ears; she’d been chained at her wrists and ankles.

The mage was being held a dark room, save for the soft glow of embers of a dampened torch; but _where_ was she? It smelled of iron and sulfur, with a sharp twinge of lyrium. The mix of undesirable smells made her dry heave. It was night—that she could tell from a small window— the moon glowed a soft grey behind dark swirling clouds. A lonely night in Tevinter greeted her, the first of many she would see.

* * *

 

Fenris awoke with the voice of Danarius ringing in his ears. His head throbbed and the blinding light of mid-morning didn’t do him any favors. He looked up at the high, beamed ceiling, a heavy wave of despair came over him when he realized what had happened.

Get up. Save Hawke.

No, you can’t.

Pulling the blanket over his head, he rolled into his side and brought his knees up closer to himself, not that there was much room. He had been set up on a small cot, most likely in Varric’s room of The Hanged Man judging by the smell of the place. His breathing grew slow and heavy, thoughts of Hawke flooded his mind. He could feel tears welling in the corners of his eyes, as well as an uncomfortable lump in the back of his throat. What the hell was he doing? Crying at a time like this when he should be planning to save Marian? But what did it matter. He felt useless, worthless. A swelling rage began to build inside of him. His last words to her were those of anger. How could he be so stupid.

A louder voice coming from the other room, who he identified as Varric, disrupted his thoughts. The dwarf was talking to someone but he couldn’t figure out who or what about. Female. Firm with leadership, though it wavered with sorrow. Aveline. Though his body protested he sat up and attempted to get out of bed, but the blood rushed to his head causing him to topple over face first into the floor. Before he could stand up Varric, Aveline, and Anders entered the room, alerted by his commotion. Fenris sat on the floor looking disheveled, tired, in pain.

The three of them looked at him with sorrowful eyes, though Aveline was also trying to hide her grief; she was guard captain after all, nobody was allowed to see her falter. A lie. She’s a person just as they are. She stepped toward Fenris, offering her hand; he hesitated for a moment but took it, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t want to see their pity toward him. Everyone stood there awkwardly for a short time. Anders and Aveline exchanged looks, unsure how to approach the situation. Silence was uncomfortable. Fenris wasn’t one for heart to heart talks, especially with the mage there. He began to head for the stairway when someone took hold of his arm.

“Fenris.. I’m sorry,” Anders began, but Fenris cut him off sharply, jerking his arm away.

“ _No_. You're not sorry for me. You’re sorry for her. If you cared you would be on your way to Tevinter right now.”

Varric took a step toward Fenris, offering a look of condolence as he spoke. “Kid, I’m sorry. I would have told you but she made me promise. You know Hawke. If I could change what happened I would—” but he was cut off sharply.  

“You.. _knew?_ ”  He sounded absolutely disgusted.

Fenris was furious, his friends— and then Anders— weren’t even moving, not lifting a finger to even plan to help Hawke. She could still be saved. She’s strong. It’s not too late. It’s never too late. He’d just have to catch the next ship heading for Tevinter— not that many go over there to begin with. It could be another month before a passenger ship would depart for Tevinter from Kirkwall. He could journey through the plains, take the Imperial Highway, however traveling by himself would be a poor idea if one were to take rations and other dangers into consideration. Hawke once told him he always rush into things. Take the time to stop and think. And then she told him she couldn’t follow her own advice anyway. So why should he?

“Fenris, she could be halfway to Tevinter by now, who knows what Danarius had planned. You couldn’t have known. There’s no way we could make that journey alone. Even Bianca here knows it's a bad idea. You know that.” Varric didn’t sound happy to add on the last comment, but it was true. Tevinter isn’t to be taken lightly.

“We all want to save her, _elf_ ,” Anders spat. Fenris shot him a glare immediately.

“How do you know. I lived my entire life there. _With_ him. If you're not going to help, I don't want to see you.”

Varric looked uncomfortable, not sure how to respond. Fenris was already past the conversation now thinking of anyway to get to Minrathous safely and quickly.

He’d find a way.

For Marian.

 

* * *

 

How long had it been? Hours? Days? A searing pain yanked Marian out of unconsciousness. White hot. She gasped and cried out. A harsh slap to her face silenced her with a grunt. A iron rod had branded her with a mark of the Imperium. More of a 'property of' sign. She wanted to puke.

“Shut up, dog.” A familiar voice snapped at her. Danarius.

The woman mumbled a curse at him, to which she was returned with a kick in the side.

“You’ll address me as master now, Hawke. Have I not made myself clear?”

“Inexplicably,” she said through her teeth. So, this was her life now. As long as Fenris was safe.

“Today we’ll begin a small—” Danarius paused, searching for the right word, and when he found it a sickening grin spread over his face. “—experiment. We’ll try something familiar to you. I can only _wonder_ how your body will react to lyrium infusion.”

Her stomach started doing flips. It won’t work. It won’t be good. Maker, please no. It’s all she could think. Marian couldn’t beg. She could never. Into another dark room she was dragged.

This one was much larger than the first. One wall was lined with foundry and metalworking stations, which added to the stuffiness of the room. Marian found herself bound to a wooden table; the rough leather straps chaffed her skin as she struggled against them, the uneven boards forced her back in an uncomfortable position. I

t was quiet for a long time, save for the poor elf slaving over the nearest foundry. Sweat dripped off their face as they pulled a crucible of white-hot lyrium from the coals. A sharp order for them to hurry and prepare the needles rushed their movements. Hawke could only make out the louder sounds of scuffling feet and some metal clanging together along with the ambient noise of the metalworking.

Without a warning she felt a gloved hand on her cheek. She jolted in her bindings and looked to see Danarius had reached out to her.

“You'll be so beautiful, Hawke. And if I'm really lucky, you'll forget everything about this.”

Marian felt sick to her stomach. If she hadn't been strapped on her back she might have puked impulsively. All she could do was yell at him, make a scene, but what good would that do her now. The mage avoided eye contact until he grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Don't forget, it is I who has granted you this gift.” With that said, he walked over to the foundry to prepare the first of the infusers. The mage felt an ache in her gut all the way up to her chest. This can’t be happening. The first of the needles was inserted to the second layer of her skin, about four inches long. As the needles were removed, refined lyrium was ejected into her body at the desired shape and angles. Her body seized each time it begun, and lasted until the needle popped out of her skin.

Hours later, after extreme fits of pain, Marian had now matched her love. Lyrium was infused into the mages skin. Hers were unique to herself, of course. Long and swooping like her counterparts, but with teardrop shapes to indicate blood magic. She didn’t have to look to see where they were drawn, as she could feel the searing pain along each line. Every waking moment hurt, and the more she moved, the more mana built up inside her body. Anything to disperse it. A plume of flame. A blizzard enveloping the room. An burst of arcana. Each outburst was met with the harsh whip of a crop. A leather whip would damage the magisters beautiful, hard work.

**** “Control it!” He snapped. Another harsh slap to her stomach, with no regard for the lyrium burning just below the skin he was beating. 

She wanted to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! It's been like a year. I've missed writing so I decided to finish up what I could of this short chapter to post.
> 
> It's getting a bit further into the idea that started it.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy!  
> Any comments and kudos would be awesome in letting me know if anyone wants more of this.
> 
> Thanks so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this? Leave a kudos or comment!  
> Thanks so much for reading!


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